47. Daphne
47
“Did you see this?” I hold up the breaking news bulletin that just popped up on my phone’s notifications. “Can you believe it?”
Pasha squints at the screen over my shoulder, then shrugs. “It’s about damn time.”
Senator Scott Brennan Expelled From Office; Criminal Charges Pending
I never had direct business with Scott Brennan, but what little interaction I did have with him left a sour taste in my mouth.
“What kind of charges is he facing?” I ask while my husband refills my coffee mug.
“What kind of charges isn’t he facing is the better question. He’s corrupt, plain and simple.” Pasha pours his own mug. “But if I’m making an educated guess, I’d start with human trafficking. Prostitution. Child endangerment. Bribery. Money laundering.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Holy shit. Why not just add ‘murder’ to the mix?”
“Sooner or later, maybe.” His phone buzzes in his pocket and he answers. “What? I can’t—yeah. The fuck do you mean, ‘They’re here’?”
Shit. I know that tone. When I look at him over the rim of my mug, I see his expression darken.
“Say nothing. Do nothing. Have Makari call our lawyers and get Sofiya—what?”
Now, I’m worried.
Pasha is not a man who panics.
“I’m on my way. No, no, I know. This is bullshit and I know exactly who to blame. I’m making the calls now.”
I expect him to fly out the door to handle whatever crisis just occurred. Instead—and catching me by surprise—he scoops me into his arms and cradles my face in his hands. “I need you to listen to me, Daphne.”
“Everything okay?” I know it’s a stupid question to ask. Clearly, the answer is “no.”
Pasha sighs and presses his forehead to mine. “The feds are raiding one of my hangars. Arlo is keeping them busy, but they’ve already taken Mak into custody. I’ve gotta get over there.”
“Go.” I press a warm hand to his chest. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t. Leave.” He tips my face up so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “Do you hear me? Don’t answer the door for anyone. Don’t check the mail. Don’t go in to work. My mother is on her way to keep you and Taty company, but once she’s in here, none of you are leaving until I get back. Understood?”
“But—”
“Please, Daphne.”
I sigh. “I understand. Be careful, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
I grab him by the shirt and make him see I’m just as serious as he is. “I mean it. You can boss me around all you want because you’re my husband, but don’t forget: I am your wife. I get to boss you around a little, too.”
“Are you giving me orders, Mrs. Chekhov?” he asks with a tiny flicker of a smile.
“The first of many. Come back to me, Pasha.”
He kisses me. “Always.”
Feeling him pull away feels like a chasm just opened up in the ground between us. On a logical level, I know I’m being overdramatic, but I can’t help it.
I love him.
I love him.
I hear him say goodbye to Taty, hear her tiny babbles at him when he kisses her sweet face. My heart squeezes. Hot tears threaten to fill my eyes.
Pull yourself together! He’s just going to get this mess cleaned up.
Fortunately, Asya arrives at the door right when he opens it to leave. She rushes in with her bags, says a few things to him in rapid Russian, and kisses both his cheeks for luck.
Pasha glances over his shoulder at me.
My limbs feel like lead. But I still manage a small wave.
And then he’s gone.
“Come, malyshka.” Asya breezes into the kitchen and checks the coffeemaker. “I haven’t had my morning coffee yet. Make me a fresh pot?”
Usually, she’s the one who makes the coffee. But I’m grateful for the distraction of something to do, which I’m pretty sure is her goal. I busy myself with grinding a fresh batch of beans while she checks the fridge for fruit and pastries.
“He’s dealt with this before,” she finally says after a long silence. She closes the fridge to offer me a comforting smile. “He’ll be fine. They all will. This is part of the price we pay for being who we are. What we are.”
I want to believe her. I really do. She’s always been the strength I’ve needed in a mother, the comfort and calm in the middle of a storm.
I can’t, though.
Not when I see her pluck an orange from the produce bin.
Her fingers are trembling.
“No. No, there was nothing there. Nothing. They had to clear out, didn’t they?”
Sofi paces the living room, one hand tugging at her long hair in frustration while the other holds her phone up to her ear. She’s been on the phone with this lawyer for the better part of an hour, and it sounds like things are going badly.
“I’m still not hearing anything about probable cause. I’m telling you, the raids were rigged. This whole thing is out of the blue!”
I glance over at Asya. She’s sipping her third cup of hot tea. I can tell she’s trying to put on a strong front, but the facade is crumbling.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I know. Yeah, I hear you. So what do we need to do? When’s bail being posted?”
Asya’s eyes pinch shut. Her teacup clacks down on the saucer harder than she means to. I watch her take a deep breath, but those fingers of hers have not stopped shaking.
“Do you need a blanket?” I ask, careful to keep my voice quiet so I don’t disturb Sofi’s call.
“I’m fine. Thank you, malyshka.” Asya tries to smile at me. She reaches out and squeezes my hand, then pulls me over to sit next to her.
I’m thankful that Tatyanna has decided to sleep peacefully for most of the morning. She’ll be a bear in the evening, but right now, the adults need to discuss plans.
Sofi—who arrived a little over an hour after Pasha left—hangs up the phone and sighs. “Well, Mak’s definitely in jail. They’re working on getting him out, but the charges are pretty serious. Our best defense is to claim the evidence was planted, but…” She looks at me.
That’s gonna be a hard sell.
Asya hiccups. I know she’s trying so hard to keep it together. But no matter what she does, I still see the tears brimming along her lashes.
So I wrap my arm around her. “What happened?” I ask Sofi. “It seemed like everything was fine just yesterday. How is this all just coming out of the blue?”
She slumps onto the couch, tossing her phone on the coffee table with a loud thud. “Beats me. The best any of us can figure is either Brennan or Hamish spewed shit to the feds as some sort of retaliation. You told your parents off, so they’re pissed. Pasha told the senator off, so he is now publicly humiliated, unemployed, and also pissed.”
“Is there anyone else? Who could have done this, I mean?”
“Paris was the only other person left alive, as far as I know. And she’s safe and sound in a mental institution way out in Ohio. Amish country, too, so, you know—no Internet there.”
My stomach twists. “So it’s either the senator or my family.”
“We’re your family. The Hamishes are just…” Sofi waves an irritated hand. “Shadows of the past. Annoying shadows, but still.”
“Something terrible is going to happen,” Asya suddenly whispers.
We both turn to look at her. She’s wringing her fingers, all but rocking in the fetal position on the couch. Her eyes seem glazed over, and she’s staring at nothing whatsoever.
“Mama…?” Sofi slides into the seat next to her mother and touches her hand.
The older woman slowly shakes her head at first. Then faster, and faster, until she cries out and springs to her feet. “No! We have to get him out of there!”
I exchange glances with my sister-in-law.
And I see the fear in her eyes.
Tears stream down Asya’s face as she paces back and forth, her fingers shaking uncontrollably and tugging at the ends of her hair. “My baby… my sweet baby… Something bad is going to happen… milyy Makari…”
“Mama, I promise you, he’s fine. He’s in protective custody. He?—”
Her eyes pierce into Sofi’s with a ferocity I’ve never seen in her before. “They cannot protect him. They will not protect him. Eti tupyye politseyskiye ne znayut, chto budet dal'she…”
“Mama, please!”
Sofi wraps Asya up in a hug to calm her down. I check my phone to see if maybe, by some miracle, Pasha has texted me yet.
Nothing.
I steel my resolve to get through this in one piece—to get us through all of this—and then I join my newfound sister in pulling our mother out of the darkness.